Текст книги "The Fiery Heart"

Автор книги: Richelle Mead

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Текущая страница: 18 (всего у книги 22 страниц)

“That you were already spending your birthday with one of those creatures?” I couldn’t help but feel a little guilty. But surely if something too awful had happened, she wouldn’t be here.

Sydney gave me a small smile. “I told her if she really cared about me, then she’d let me do whatever I wanted for my birthday, just like Mom did when I was twelve.”

“What happened when you were twelve?”

“Oh, Mom offered to take us all out for dinner–us girls, Dad was out of town–to celebrate, but I didn’t want to. This book I’d been waiting for had just come out, and the only thing I wanted to do was read it all night.”

“My God,” I said, touching the top of her nose. “You’re adorable.”

She swatted me away. “Anyway, Carly and Zoe really wanted to go out so that they could score a meal, but Mom just said, ‘It’s her birthday. Let her do whatever she wants.’”

“Your mom is cool.”

“Very.” Sydney stared off for several long moments, the candlelight reflecting in her eyes. “Well, mentioning her was the worst thing I could do to Zoe tonight. I’ve been trying to sell her on the idea of testifying for joint custody, in case she really can live both lives with Mom and Dad. I think she was considering it . . . then she asked Dad about it. And, well . . . he had plenty to say. One conversation, and she was completely brainwashed again, so when I brought up Mom, Zoe started going off on how we need to remember what a bad person she is. On and on.” She sighed. “I think the only thing that got me out of our room was when I told Zoe I managed to get her permission to practice three‑point turns by herself in the faculty parking lot.”

“Ah, yes, nothing to get a young girl’s heart racing like control of a car. I hear that’s big in the Sage family.”

Her smile was starting to return. “That’s the thing, she’s still so young in many ways. One minute, she wants her license. The next, she’s got the power to call me in for breaking Alchemist rules. It’s dangerous, especially since she thinks she knows everything.”

I gathered our empty bowls and stood up. “And as we all know, only one Sage sister knows everything.”

“Not everything. I don’t know that recipe,” she called. “But I might have to. That was amazing.”

“Maybe we could go to New Orleans instead of Rome.” I put some cupcakes on a plate and gathered up a tiny candle and my lighter. Hopper watched with interest, especially the cupcakes. “Escape plan number thirty‑seven: Go to New Orleans and sell overpriced Mardi Gras beads to unsuspecting tourists. No language problems. And I bet it’d be sexy if I learned to talk with a Cajun accent.”

“Sex ier,  you mean. You know, I bet Wolfe wrestled alligators down in the bayou.”

“I bet he tamed them in order to facilitate his escape from pirates down there.” I returned to the living room and sat beside her with the plate.

“I bet he did both,” she said. We were both silent for a moment and then burst into laughter.

“Okay, birthday girl.” I set one of the cupcakes in front of her and pushed in the little candle. My lighter, despite a month of neglect, lit the wick. “Make a wish.”

Sydney gave me a smile brighter than the flame in front of her and then leaned forward. Our eyes locked briefly, and I felt a bittersweet tug at my heart. What was she wishing for? Rome? New Orleans? Anywhere? She kept the wish to herself, as she should have, and simply blew out the candle.

I clapped and whistled and then dove into my own cupcake, dying to know how my creations tasted. And seeing as I’d done the hard work–frosting and decorating–I felt like I could  take credit and call them my creations. All Cassie had done was get the ingredients, come up with the recipe, and do all the measuring and mixing.

“I never would’ve thought following up gumbo with cupcakes like this would work so well.” Sydney paused to lick frosting off her fingers, and I momentarily lost all higher cognitive functions.

“It was part of Cassie’s master plan,” I said at last. “She said making out is always better after peppermint.”

“Wow. She really is a culinary genius.” She finished off the frosting and then delicately wiped her hands with a napkin. “Speaking of making out . . . can I assume you got the Mustang detailed?”

“Ah. Well.” I’d nearly forgotten about that. “Don’t freak out but–”

“Oh no. What’d you do to it?”

I held up my hands. “Hold on, I didn’t do anything.”

I gave her a brief rundown of what had happened this afternoon and then watched as that earlier mischievous look turned to glumness. “That poor car. I’m going to have to call the shop in the morning and find out what’s wrong. We might have to take it to a specialty place.”

“Gah. I don’t know if I can even afford this place.”

She put her hand over mine. “I’ll spot you.”

I’d had a feeling that was coming and knew there’d be no way to fight it. “Coming to my rescue?”

“Of course. It’s what we do.” She scooted closer to me. Hopper tried to move in, and I pushed him out of the way. “I rescue you; you rescue me. We just take turns whenever the other needs it. And if it makes you feel better, think of it as me coming to the Ivashkinator’s rescue, not yours.”

I laughed and put an arm around her waist. “That totally fixes everything. Except, now that I don’t have a car, I can’t really make good on my birthday promise.”

Sydney thought about it for several moments. “Well. I’ve got a car.”

An hour later, I vowed I’d never make fun of that Mazda again.

It turned out to be one of our most intense encounters and certainly one of our most inventive, seeing as we had to deal with the space constraints of the backseat. As we lay together afterward, curled up under a blanket I’d had the foresight to bring, I tried to etch every detail into my mind. The smoothness of her skin, the curve of her hip. The exhilarating lightness that burned in my soul, even as the rest of me felt blissfully lethargic.

Sydney boldly sat up and reached for the moon roof. “How’s that for a birthday?” she asked triumphantly. A partial silver moon gleamed down at us through some branches.

Before the clothes had come off, she’d driven around the block to ascertain that there was no tail lying in wait. Even though she had no reason to think the Alchemists were tracking her, she still erred on the side of caution. Satisfied, she’d ended up parking in a pretty strategic spot on my street, one that was overhung with trees and in front of a vacant house a block from my building. Someone could still obviously come by and spot us, but the odds were pretty low in this darkness.

She snuggled back under the blanket with me, turned toward me so that she could rest her head on my chest. “I hear your heart,” she said.

“Do you check every once in a while, just to make sure I’m not undead?”

Her answer was a soft laugh, followed by a long, sensuous kiss at the side of my neck.

My hands tightened on her, and I again tried to memorize every part of this moment. There was such perfection in the way our bodies were wrapped together. It didn’t seem possible that outside the sanctity of this moonlit car was a world we had to hide from, a world that wanted to tear us apart. The thought of what surrounded us made what was between us seem that much more fragile.

“‘Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold . . .’” I murmured.

“Are you quoting Yeats now?” she asked incredulously, lifting her head slightly. “That poem’s about apocalyptic visions and World War One.”

“I know.”

“You have some very strange post‑sex poetic choices.”

I smiled and ran my fingers through her hair. It looked neither gold nor silver in here, just some fey color in between. Even in the throes of love and joy, I could feel a little of the Adrian Ivashkov moodiness settling over me.

“Well . . . it’s just sometimes I feel like this is too good to be true. I couldn’t have created anything this perfect in one of my own spirit dreams.” I pulled her closer and pressed my cheek against hers. “And I’m enough of a pessimist to know we eventually wake up from dreams.”

“That’s not going to happen,” she said. “Because this isn’t a dream. It’s real. And we can handle whatever comes. You come across any William Morris in your poems?”

“Isn’t that the guy who makes cigarettes?” And here she was accusing me of non‑romantic poems.

“No. WilliamMorris was an English writer.” She rolled over and rummaged through the mess of clothes on the floor. A moment later, she lifted up a phone and did a search on it. “Here we go. ‘Yet their hands shall not tremble, their feet shall not falter.’” She tossed the phone back into the pile and snuggled up to me again, resting her hands over my heart. “The poem’s called ‘Love Is Enough.’ As long as we’re together, that’s how we’ll be. No trembling. No faltering. We’re unstoppable.”

I caught hold of her hands and kissed them. “How did you become the starry‑eyed romantic while I became the worrier?”

“I guess we rubbed off on each other. Don’t make a joke out of that,” she warned.

“Don’t leave me such good setups, then.”

I smiled at her, but that brooding cloud still hung over me, even as I lay there so full of happiness. I had never thought I could love another person this much. I also never thought I’d live in such fear of losing another person. Was that how everyone in love felt? Did they all cling tightly to their beloved and wake up terrified in the middle of the night, afraid of being alone? Was that an inevitable way of life when you loved so deeply? Or was it just those of us who walked on a precipice who lived in such a panic?

I brought my face a mere whisper from hers. “I love you so much.”

She blinked in that way I’d come to recognize, when she was afraid she might cry. “I love you too. Hey.” She slid one of her hands up and rested it on my cheek. “Don’t look like that. Everything’s going to be okay. The center will  hold.”

“How do you know?”

“Because we are the center.”

CHAPTER 20

SYDNEY

I SAT BACK ON MY KNEES AND SURVEYED MY WORK. One gallon of the ink that could help free other Alchemists tired of being controlled by our superiors. It would change the way Marcus carried out his missions. It would change everything.

The power of that realization with Marcus was part of why I’d agreed to Neil’s madness. It was another chance for a monumental discovery. I’d followed up on the Los Angeles Strigoi in question with Alchemist reports and found that Neil’s assumptions were right. All signs indicated this Strigoi worked in a very specific territory and usually worked alone. The prevailing theory was that it must be a newly turned one. Although they weren’t the best at organization, experienced Strigoi knew the power they had in groups. If this one was a beginner, so much the better for us. I just hoped two dhampirs and a fire‑wielding witch were enough to take this one out.

But I was fully aware that something could go wrong, and that was why I hadn’t told Adrian. I hated  that. I knew relationships fell apart all the time because someone was stupid and withheld a vital piece of information. When I’d gotten involved with him, I’d sworn I’d never do that. And yet, I also knew a couple things would happen if Adrian knew our plans. One was that he’d want to come. The other was that if something went wrong, if one of us was hurt–or, God forbid, killed–he would never forgive himself for not being able to perform a healing. I’d seen it in his face, both before and after the pills. Maybe the rush of spirit had been addictive, but it was being powerless to help others that truly tormented him. I couldn’t let him face that.

My last reason for keeping him out of it was purely selfish: I couldn’t risk anything happening to him.

Things fall apart.

I knew Adrian’s words were just part of his contemplative, metaphysical moods. They haunted me nonetheless, maybe because I understood what he was saying. There was a perfection to what we had, even if it was all in stolen moments, and at times, it did seem as though we were dancing on a razor’s edge that we’d inevitably plummet over. As I contemplated my task with Neil and Eddie, I wondered bitterly if this would be what broke Adrian and me. We worried so much about getting caught by others. Maybe things would fall apart because I was running off on some foolish and noble task.

The center cannot hold.

I sighed and stood up. There was nothing to be done now. I was resolved to do this thing. Sydney Sage really was the reckless one.

Back in my dorm room, I found Zoe finishing up her homework. Things had eased up a little since our birthday fight last night, but tension still hung heavy between us. “Hey,” I said, taking off my coat.

“Hey,” she replied. “Finish your work for Ms. Terwilliger?”

I ignored the accusatory tone. “Yup. The big project’s pretty much wrapped up, so I should have some more time.” I thought that would please her, but she still looked sullen, so I tried another approach. “Want a cupcake?” I’d brought home leftovers and told her they were from Spencer’s, which kept a well‑stocked pastry cabinet.

Zoe shook her head. “Too many calories. Besides, it’s almost dinnertime.”

“Are you going to eat with us?” I asked hopefully. Like me, she’d made some human friends and sometimes preferred them to the Moroi gang.

I saw her hesitate and then finally give me a tentative smile that filled me with hope. “Sure.” She wanted us to be sisters. But like me, she wasn’t sure how to make it work.

Someday, I thought. Someday I’ll fix everything. Adrian, Zoe. Life will be easy again.

She perked up a little when we went downstairs and I told her she could take the car out tonight to practice her turns. For the first time in a while, I was staying at school for the evening, so she might as well get her chance with the Mazda. Admittedly, it was a little hard to yield the car after what Adrian and I had done last night. The memories washed over me, and even now, my breath caught. The moonlight, his touch. I’d never look at that car the same way, but my sentimentality wasn’t enough to keep it from Zoe.

In the cafeteria, we found a weird atmosphere settling around my friends’ table. Jill was the only one semi‑upbeat, largely because she’d found a date to the dance. A friend of her ex, Micah, was going to go with her. “It’s just platonic,” she said, giving Neil a meaningful gaze. “But it’ll be fun to have a chance to get out of the uniform for a change. And it’s here, so no real security problems.”

Neil nodded, but it was obvious to me that he hadn’t heard a word she’d said. Eddie also seemed checked out, which was surprising since even though he denied wanting Jill, he usually had some problem with the guys she went out with. Both he and Neil wore mirrored expressions of preoccupation now, and an alarm went off in my head that something had happened. When I’d seen them yesterday, both had certainly had our trip to LA on their minds, but they hadn’t looked this glum. I wondered if maybe some enterprising guardian had taken out our “easy” Strigoi.

The last piece of this drama was Angeline. She was making no effort to hide her suspicion. Adrian had told me how she’d come over to his place yesterday, and I watched as she leveled glares at me and the guys. As distracted as she got, I never would’ve guessed she’d be the one to pick up on subtle clues. Even now, despite her watchfulness, she’d occasionally oscillate between random topics, like how shepherd’s pie wasn’t a pie at all and why it was pointless to take a class in typing when technology would eventually develop robot companions to do it for us.

When she started going off on the cafeteria’s carrot cake and how cream‑cheese frosting should be considered cheese spread instead of frosting, I couldn’t take it anymore. I took my empty tray and stood up to get a water refill. It wasn’t a surprise when Eddie joined me across the room.

“What happened?” I asked. “Is Angeline still critiquing the carrot cake?”

“No, she’s moved on to baking in general and whether it’s best to frost before or after something’s cool.” He sighed. “But I’m guessing you know there’s more than that going on.”

“Bring it.”

“We just saw some guardian reports about a Strigoi gang that’s been moving down the coast. Everyone’s pretty sure they’re going to end up in Los Angeles.”

I immediately picked up on the subtext. “And you’re worried they’ll join up with your guy.”

He nodded. “I mean, we don’t know for certain,  but it’s a new variable to deal with. Part of what made this idea kind of not crazy was that other Strigoi activity had been low in the area.”

“So what are we going to do?” His dismay began to spread to me.

“Neil and I think we should go tomorrow. The other Strigoi shouldn’t be there yet, and it’s a Friday. We know this guy likes club goers.”

I groaned. “Zoe and I are supposed to celebrate my birthday. If I cancel . . . God, Eddie. It’s going to be ugly. Things are bad between us.”

His expression turned kind, but there was steel in his eyes. “This may be our only chance.”

Turning from him, I stared across the cafeteria. Neil had left, and Zoe was standing up, no doubt off to take the car out. Angeline was already eagerly leaning toward Jill, and I wondered if there’d be more talk of conspiracy theories. Or maybe cake. Or robot companions.

“Okay,” I told Eddie. “I’ll make it happen.”

I did, but as I’d warned him, it was ugly.

Zoe was in a bad mood when she got back from parking practice, and I prayed she hadn’t hit something. When school got out the next day, her mood was still in full effect, killing any fleeting chance that I might get away unscathed. There was nothing to do but push forward and give her the bad news that my birthday was being postponed again. She was nearly in tears by the end of our “discussion.”

“How can you keep doing this?” she yelled. “What’s wrong with you? I thought when I came here . . . I thought things would be great. I thought we’d be a team.”

“We are,” I said. “We’re getting so much done, and I thought . . . well, I thought you were making good progress in getting along with the Moroi and dhampirs.”

“Yes, but they’re not the ones I want to spend time with. You are, Sydney. My sister! Why is everything else more important than me?”

I walked over to put my arm around her, but she pushed me away. “Zoe, you are important. I love you. But there’s just a lot I have to deal with. It’s how our job works. Sometimes we get cut off from our families for a while.”

“We aren’t cut off! I’m right here.” She wiped furiously at her eyes. “You said that thing for Ms. Terwilliger was done!” Once again, I’d relied on my old excuse, simply because it was one of the few things she couldn’t fight against.

“It was supposed to be, but then we found out about a library in Pasadena that has something we need. Remember that crazy guy I told you she’s dating?” I managed a hollow laugh. “They’re going to a dog show during the day, so she isn’t free until tonight. Good thing the library’s open until–”

“I don’t care about your stupid library!” A coldness filled Zoe’s eyes as she stared at me. There was an almost tangible quality to it. “I want to know something, Sydney. And don’t lie or dodge the question. What are you going to say at the hearing?”

It hit me out of left field. A story was ready on my lips, but as I met the intensity of her gaze, I couldn’t bring myself to lie. “I’m going to tell the truth,” I said.

“What truth is that?”

“That both Mom and Dad have good things to offer. Mom’s not an evil person, Zoe. You know that.”

Zoe’s face was impassive. “And if they ask you who you think should have me, who will you say?”

I stared into her eyes, so like my own. “Mom.”

She sank back into her bed as though I’d punched her. “How could you do that to me?”

“Because Mom loves you,” I said simply. “And you should have a normal life before swearing to this one.”

“I’ve already sworn to this one,” she reminded me, touching the tattoo on her cheek.

“It’s not too late.” I wished I could tell her about the salt ink, but obviously, she wasn’t ready for that. “Zoe, since coming here, I’ve had the first chance in my life to do what other people do. To have normal relationships.”

“Yeah,” she said bitterly. “I know.”

“It’s not frivolous. It’s amazing. I love it. I want you to have that kind of life.”

“That doesn’t sound like any Alchemist belief I’ve ever heard.”

“It’s not–because I’m talking to you like a sister now, not just another Alchemist.”

“You sure do flip between those pretty randomly. How do you know which one to be at any given time?”

I shrugged. “It’s in my gut.”

Zoe stood up, her hard expression showing me she was unmoved. “I’m going out. See you for Clarence’s.”

Her words reminded me that it was a feeding night, and as I collapsed onto my own bed, dejected, I wished we were already at Clarence’s. I got out the Love Phone and texted Adrian. Can’t wait to see you tonight. I wish you were here. I need you right now.  No immediate answer came, probably because he was working on something for class. I kept writing anyway because it felt good to vent. I love you. The center will hold, and someday, we’ll get away from all this.

When we picked him up for Clarence’s later, I had to fight the urge to get out of the car and run into his arms. Too much was weighing on me. Zoe. The trip to Los Angeles. I didn’t expect Adrian to fight my battles for me, but I just wished he could give me courage before them.

He did without even knowing it, when we got a brief moment alone later. I’d gone to put our leftovers away in the kitchen, and he followed me after a minute or so. “Hey,” I said. My hand twitched with the need to touch him.

“Everything okay?” he asked. I could see the same longing in him. “You didn’t look so great back there. I mean you always look great, but . . . you know what I mean.”

“I do. Big fight with Zoe. Details don’t matter. The short version is she hates me right now.” I shrugged. “Welcome to my life. Did you get the car back? Did you get my texts?”

“Ah.” He averted his eyes. “Yes to the first question. As for the second . . . I, uh, kind of lost the Love Phone.”

“What?”  My whole world reeled. “Adrian! That phone’s a record of everything that’s gone on between us. Please tell me you’ve been deleting everything after it comes in.”

His guilty expression told me he hadn’t. “Relax. I didn’t lose it at Alchemist HQ or anything. I’m pretty sure I lost it at a coffee shop with Rowena yesterday. My name’s not on it or anything. Clarence is going to let me borrow his car, so I’ll go back and get it.”

I still couldn’t stop the sick feeling rising in my stomach. “This could be a disaster.”

“How? If anyone even finds it–and it’s not just sitting under a table right now–they’ll just have a good laugh at our sappy talk. No one’s going to be like, ‘Aha! Proof of an illicit human‑and‑vampire affair.’”

He made me smile, just like always, but I was still worried. Jill came into the kitchen just then and grinned when she saw us. She no longer had the inside track into our relationship, but I was pretty sure she knew it had hit the next level.

“Good news,” she said in a low voice. “You’ve probably thrown Angeline off your trail. She’s been trying to get me on board about you, Neil, and Eddie doing covert things. She probably thinks you’re dating one of them.”

I laughed at the joke, glad that Jill was thrown off the trail of our LA trip too. “Yeah, because that totally wouldn’t be a problem.”

Whatever else she was going to say was interrupted as more people came in to put away their dishes. It also ended any further conversation between Adrian and me, and the most I could do was exchange a long, meaningful look with him when I prepared to leave. I hoped I’d survive this night and see him again.

Eddie, Neil, and I took my car to Los Angeles. The only time anyone spoke on the two‑hour drive was to go over the plan, which we did about a hundred times. Both of them were armed with silver stakes, and I’d practiced my fire spell as much as I could. Once I’d needed physical materials and a lot of concentration to do it. Now, I could practically do it in my sleep.

We can do this, I kept telling myself. It’s as good a plan as any.

We found the night club our Strigoi liked to frequent. Immediately, I understood its appeal. It was loud and crowded, and the bouncers didn’t do a good job checking IDs, meaning lots of young and naive people showed up. The club was surrounded by dark, winding alleys, mostly deserted except for drunken clubbers stumbling home. There were a lot of corners and shadows to hide in.

“Here,” said Eddie. We’d done a circuit of the club and found a blind alley beside a building in severe disrepair. Marcus would’ve felt right at home. A second‑story window had been broken, and when Eddie climbed up to it via a dumpster, he found a trashed, empty apartment. “This is where we’ll wait.” He helped me get up there, and we took up a position that mostly hid us in darkness while giving us a vantage on the pavement below. Neil waited down there, hoping he could be the bait he’d proposed. He’d done a lot of vigorous exercise before we left, leaving him sweaty so that the Strigoi would have an easier time smelling him. Strigoi loved drinking from dhampirs more than humans, and they loved Moroi most of all–which was another reason I hadn’t wanted Adrian to know about this. If our guy caught Neil’s scent, it’d be an irresistible lure. Our assumption was that if the Strigoi smelled Eddie, he’d just blend in with Neil. I would blend with the other humans in the area.

After that, there was nothing to do but wait. Our Strigoi usually struck in a specific time frame, and we’d come in advance of it. I hoped that meant he hung out in his lair for a while and hadn’t already been on the scene while we set up. I also hoped he’d actually come out tonight, or we’d have wasted a trip.

When it happened, it was so fast I thought I’d imagined it. The Strigoi leapt off the building opposite the one Eddie and I were in, landing effortlessly on the ground and knocking Neil down in one fluid motion. I stifled a gasp. If the Strigoi had looked around a little, our window hideout would’ve been spotted. He must have been too worked up over finding a lone dhampir.

Neil was completely pinned down, no chance of getting his stake. As the Strigoi leaned in, Neil did have a chance to gasp out, “Wait–turn me–make me one of you–awaken me–”

The Strigoi paused and then laughed. “Awaken you? Do you know how long it’s been since I had a dhampir? I’m not wasting my own blood on you. I’m going to savor this.”

“I can help you. I can serve you.” I didn’t doubt the terror in Neil’s voice was real, and yet here he was, offering himself up for the greater good. I wanted to cry but had to stay strong and wait for my part. “I can help you find other dhampirs . . . and Moroi . . .”

As the Strigoi laughed again, Eddie leaned over to whisper in my ear, so close his lips nearly touched me. Strigoi had excellent hearing. “He’s a strong one,” Eddie breathed. “And old. Very old. We were wrong.”

Neil screamed as the Strigoi bit into his neck. Eddie tensed, and I grabbed his arm. “Wait. We have to know.”

I knew what agony Eddie had to be in because I shared it. We both wanted to help Neil. Doing nothing, even for a handful of seconds, went against every part of our beings. Neil’s cries faded to moans, and as the Strigoi continued drinking, I knew the awful truth. The tattoo was a failure, and we–

The Strigoi suddenly jerked back. “What’s wrong with you?” he snarled. “You taste . . . wrong!”

That was all Eddie needed to hear. In a flash, he was out the window, landing nearly–though not quite–as gracefully as the Strigoi. Eddie’s silver stake was already in motion as his feet hit, but the Strigoi, incredibly, anticipated it. Eddie had been right. Old and powerful. Maybe too old and powerful for us.

Eddie and the Strigoi engaged in a deadly dance, and I looked for an opportunity. It had been obvious to us that if we were fighting in cramped quarters, a fireball could incinerate all of us. My instructions had been blunt and simple. Use the fire only if the Strigoi killed or turned my friends. I was supposed to be the last resort, yet I hoped there was a way I could help Eddie before then because it was clear he had his work cut out for him. Neil, though alive, was down for the count.

For his part, Eddie was magnificent. It had been a while since I’d seen him fight, and I’d nearly forgotten that the adopted brother I joked and ate lunch with was a lethal warrior. He made the Strigoi work for his kill, slipping only once when a glancing blow knocked Eddie into the brick wall. He recovered instantly, but I could see the inevitable. A series of small hits, small injuries . . . they’d take their toll. Combined with the Strigoi’s superior strength and stamina, it would be only a matter of time.

I had to act. I couldn’t just stand by and let Eddie be annihilated, not if there was anything I could do. Maybe sending a fireball down was out of the question, but I was pretty sure I could provide a good distraction. I jumped down from the window to the dumpster, using it to get down to the ground. I was a disgrace after Eddie’s amazing exit earlier. My foot landed wrong, and I stumbled. I didn’t even need to create a magical distraction, because the Strigoi noticed me right away. He shoved Eddie back and shot toward me.

Fear filled every part of me as that deathly white face leered down. Somehow, in spite of the overwhelming urge to just scream and scream, I held up my hand and summoned a small ball of fire. My hope was that it might startle him back enough for Eddie to get in for the kill. To my astonishment, the fire didn’t scare the Strigoi. In fact, he grabbed my wrist and slammed me into the brick wall. The flame disappeared, and I let out a small scream.

“Don’t try that game with me, witch,” he growled. “I know your kind. I know your tricks. Maybe your blood is off‑limits, but your neck snaps the same as anyone else’s.”

I could see my death in his eyes, and it wasn’t terror I felt so much as sorrow–a great and overwhelming sorrow for all the things I would never do. I would never see Adrian again, never create a life with him, never have those perfect children he’d joked about. Even small things took on a terrible sense of loss. I’d never have lunch with my friends again, never hear Angeline make one of her ludicrous comments. I’d never patch things up with Zoe.